


Starts with Goodbye

by belief_in_night (injured_eternity)



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-05-16
Updated: 2006-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:29:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/injured_eternity/pseuds/belief_in_night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with goodbye... Let her go and then fight... fight for what she could not. Marisol paid with her life... The ones she left behind paid the price. EC friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starts with Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Was anyone else screaming, “MOVE, DAMNIT!” at Calleigh after Eric learned that Marisol was gone? Rewritten slightly from the original.
> 
> Spoilers: 4x24 ["Rampage"]

“I guess you and Horatio will want to take over from here.”

Calleigh turned to face Eric, her kit in her hand and a sympathetic look in her eyes. Much as she’d have liked to see the bastard who’d started the whole mess and tried to destroy two members of the team put behind bars, she knew the other two needed to see the case closed much more than she did.

“Yeah,” Eric answered her after a moment. He opened his mouth to continue, but the sharp, insistent ringing of his cell phone cut off whatever he’d been planning to say; he froze momentarily before pulling it from his pocket. One look at caller ID and he closed his eyes: just "Caine" told him more than he wanted to know, and his heart froze; this wasn’t his boss calling to give him another assignment. He didn’t need to hear the words to know that.

Slowly, feeling as though he were caught up in slow motion and forced to walk to his own execution, he flipped the phone open, forcing himself to bring it to his ear. “Yeah, H,” he answered dully. He listened for a few moments, then closed his eyes, hoping he’d heard wrong, but the pain in his mentor’s voice drove the point home. “Okay.”

He ended the call and closed the phone on autopilot, staring at the offending object as though he could make it disappear, and the news along with it. His vision blurred, and he found himself staring fixedly at the balcony floor without really seeing it.

“I am so sorry…”

By both the caller and Eric’s reaction, Calleigh immediately realized what had been said, and her soft voice broke through to him, but he only nodded in response, afraid to speak lest his voice give him away. He remained crouched where he was, and for a long moment, Calleigh just stood where she was, watching him. Her heart went out to him; she knew the day had been hard on him, but she wasn’t sure how he would react to anything from her.

 _Come on, Duquesne!!_ she yelled silently at herself. _What’s the matter with you? Do something! What’s he going to do? Throw you off the balcony?_

She set her field kit down, wondering when the hell she’d become so cold, and stepped forward, crouching beside her friend and laying a hand on his shoulder.

“Eric?” He didn’t respond; he didn’t even move. “Eric, come on; say something.”

“I’ll be fine,” he mumbled, but his voice broke on the "fine," belying his front. She said nothing, giving him time, and simply squeezed his shoulder. “Why, Cal?” he whispered finally.

With a shake of her head, she sighed. “I don’t know, Eric; I can’t answer that. I—“

“We just had the chance of getting her back,” he said quietly, his voice breaking. “She made it to remission… She’d won something… And now none of it matters…”

“It all matters,” she countered gently.

He shook his head, swallowing hard. “That could have been me, Cal… It should have been me. If I’d been in front of her, if only I’d gotten her out of the way in time…”

“Then there’d have been two people killed because they wanted to hurt Horatio,” she told him. “I know that doesn’t really make you feel better, but they knew she was his wife.” Calleigh hesitated, searching him. “They… they wanted both of you, but… but they though she’d hurt him more…” Her piercing green eyes were filled with pain—pain for him.

“You dying wouldn’t have changed her fate, Eric—I promise you that. We’d just have two people to mourn, and your parents would have lost both their children.”

He heaved a sigh and dropped his head into his hands, bracing his elbows on his knees. “I know, Cal, but… damn it, I should have been able to protect her… I should have moved when I first saw that flash.”

“We can all play the ‘shoulda’ game,” she reminded him softly, “but it isn’t going to help. It’s done; nothing we try to do can change the past.”

Drawing in a shaky breath, he bit down hard on his lower lip, fighting for his composure. “This one hurts, Cal… our dad… he won’t even look at me. He blames me for this…”

“He’s hurting, Eric, just as much as you are.” Her hand tightened on his shoulder. “He needs someone to blame, and you happened to be there. That doesn’t mean that blame is well-placed.”

“Oh, God, Cal,” he whispered, and she stood slowly; it vaguely crossed his mind that he never addressed anyone by name so often in conversation. Half a second later, the thought was gone; given the circumstances, he didn’t care. He was still running on autopilot, trying to understand in full what he had been told, and for all he knew, he’d been calling her by the _wrong_ name.

“Come on, Eric,” she said quietly, drawing him to his feet and away from the sliding glass doors.

He raised his eyes to hers, unconsciously begging her for answers to questions that she could not give. “Why?” he whispered again. “Why Mari? Why my sister?”

Her heart broke for him, for the circumstances that had pushed him so close to the edge to show the raw emotion that rarely passed the surface. She had barely known Marisol, but the pain she felt was for those that had been left behind.

“I don’t know, Eric,” she answered again. “I wish to God I did, but there’s nothing I can say that will take the pain away.”

Slowly, he tipped his head back, blinking rapidly, fighting for words and finding none, and a single tear slipped through his iron resolve. It broke through Calleigh’s gentle professionalism alongside and she reached out to him.

“Come here,” she ordered softly, pulling him into her embrace.

Obeying, he leaned his head against her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her as the only support he had that hadn’t yet been torn out from under him. He hated himself for losing his composure, but he couldn’t take anymore beating, and his body recognized that before his brain did.

After a few minutes, he pulled back, drawing a hand across his eyes. “Sorry, Cal.”

“It’s okay,” she brushed it off. “Are _you_ going to be okay?”

With a sigh, he nodded. “Thanks,” he added.

She nodded in response, then touched his shoulder, catching his attention to make him meet her gaze. “It starts with goodbye,” she said gently. “Let her go and then fight… fight for what she couldn’t.”

  
 _Finis._

 _Feedback is always appreciated._


End file.
